


(ever since) we founded Rome

by fictorium, Musetotheworld



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Mayka made us do it, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10024691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musetotheworld/pseuds/Musetotheworld
Summary: Supergirl has a habit of flying far-flung historically charged cities when she’s overwhelmed. The architecture isn’t the same, but something about surrounding herself with tangible memories of a lost (or at least ancient) civilization is calming. She can see the ruins and remember that Krypton might not be there anymore, but that memories remain.Cat notices this habit. It isn’t hard, not when her news outlets all know to keep an eye out for Supergirl sightings. So she goes to one of the cities Kara likes to fly over when she notices things have been getting tough for the hero, and she waits.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Co-writing! Yay! Mayka made us do it, and it was a pleasure.

“Buona notte, Supergirl,” Cat says softly from her balcony. Kara turns a slow half-circle in the night air, stars twinkling behind her. It’s no surprise that all the way up there, she still hears every word.

“Cat Grant,” Kara exhales the name like a memory that’s just come flooding back to her. “What brings you to Rome?”

 _You_ , is what Cat doesn’t say. That she tracks Supergirl on the news the way she tracks her stock prices. That the news alerts in Greek, in Spanish, in Italian, in Turkish, have been popping up more frequently in the months since Cat left National City. The locals are broadly welcoming, taking the best of the Americanized glamor, with only nominal protests that they’re being invaded. Kara is welcomed almost everywhere she goes, as always.

“Business,” Cat half-lies. “You look different here, out of context. What’s troubling you?”

“Oh, memories, history,” Kara says in a quiet voice, drifting a little closer. “There’s so much of it here, so much of the past. You can see it everywhere, if you look.”

It doesn’t take much to realise what she means, not when Cat can see three different ruins from where she stands looking over the city, not when you can practically smell the history in the bricks if you inhale deeply enough. There’s history here, all right, all around them. What’s less clear is why that history, so very human, is so appealing to an alien who must have seen wonders ten times greater than these ancient ruins.

“And what is it that drives _you_ to look?” Cat asks, wanting to understand.

“That it’s still here.” Kara hovers over the lip of the balcony, unsure whether to land. “You can hear the years somewhere like this; the way the city creaks like it has bones. Those little sighs from beneath the earth that say someone was here, and someone after that, and all the lives have counted. That everyone was remembered, at least for a while."

How appealing that must be to a girl who saw her world explode, the only remnants of it borne on her chest and in the cape that flows at her back. Sometimes in these ancient cities, despite the wifi and the scooters and the bustle of modern life, Cat thinks she too can hear the whispers of thousands of lives already lived, of stories told and memories made. Sentimental, perhaps, but what’s a little sentiment for Kara, who has nothing of her world to reach out and touch?

“I can see why that would appeal to you,” Cat says, waving a hand at the space next to her, inviting Kara to share her view. It’s not as nice as the one from above everything, Cat’s sure, but it’s also not as lonely.

“It’s soothing,” Kara admits, landing softly and turning to look out over the city with Cat. “I come here when I can’t sleep, or when the days are too much. I can almost feel weight of centuries, and all that love, and all those connections, vibrating through the stone and marble in a lullaby that reminds me of home. I can almost hear it, Miss Grant.”

“Kara, please.” If she can bare her soul to Cat, then it’s time Cat showed the remainder of her honesty in return. “It’s Cat. Especially here.” She likes to think she sees in a few crystals of ice in Kara’s heavy exhale; relief, in its purest form.

“You knew,” Kara says, and Cat hears no trace of surprise in her voice. “How long?”

“For sure? Myriad, I think,” Cat says softly, remembering the comfort of Kara’s embrace when she’d thought the world could be ending. “There wasn’t anyone I trusted more to save us than you, but when I thought you might not make it, or that you might lose part of what made you the hero we needed, something clicked. I realized that if National City lost Supergirl, I’d lose Kara as well.”

“Thank you, by the way, for helping me see what I needed to do,” Kara says softly, leaning closer the way she had on another night, another balcony. And this time, with the last of the secrets between them out in the open, Cat leans in as well.

“You’ve always known what you needed to do, Kara. You just needed a little push.” She’s barely whispering now, the space between them nearly nonexistent, the words needing no push to make it to Kara’s ears.

There’s a question and permission in the words that matches the reassurance, and Cat knows the exact moment that Kara realizes that. She knows, because soft lips are meeting her own, and suddenly Cat can hear a melody of her own. It’s not the song of the past, not the one that calls to Kara. But maybe it’s a song of the future, of the possibilities that grow from a world shaped by that past.

“Come in,” Cat murmurs when the kiss ends, quite some time later. “Oh,” she adds, when Kara chases another kiss, and wins it right away. “To talk. Mostly.”

The pout on Kara’s face edges entirely too close to adorable, but for once Cat doesn’t mind when that thought passes through her head. They’ve crossed one line tonight, what’s one more? It’s not as if she can pretend she isn’t affected by everything that Kara is. And now that they’re here, she finds she doesn’t want to.

Kara hesitates at the door, and Cat doesn’t try to hide her smirk at how visibly flustered the hero is. That she can have such an effect on her with nothing more than a few kisses is a power rush Cat hasn’t felt in years. Not even building her own company from the ground up could compare.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly shy,” Cat tosses out as she crosses the threshold into the sitting room, brow raised as if daring Kara. “Not in a skirt that short.”

The familiarity of the quip seems to settle Kara, and when she smiles this time it’s broad and easy, the Kara Danvers smile that can light up any room. When she takes steps towards Cat, they don’t falter. Kara has that Supergirl swagger back, and Cat realizes that she might be the one in trouble now. Whoever picked out those knee-high leather boots - because it certainly can’t have been Kara - deserves some kind of medal.

“Not shy,” Kara confirms, with another kiss. Searing, determined, enough to back Cat from where she stands in the middle of her suite right to the edge of her ridiculous, oversized bed. “I knew you were here, you know,” she murmurs against Cat’s collarbone. “Before you called out to me.”

“Kara, we were going to talk,” Cat protests, words sounding weak to her own ears, and completely undermined by her hands rising to tangle in blonde curls.

“About what?” Kara teases. “The architecture?”

“Oh, fuck it,” Cat breathes as Kara’s lips tease along her pulse and drive rational thought farther out of reach. Like hell she’s going to be left behind here. Kara can take the lead if she wants, but Cat isn’t going to let her call all the shots.

It’s almost surprising, that the super suit should peel away as easily as any other outfit; Cat would have had more trouble getting Kara out of an evening dress. That perfect skin is cool to the touch, a flash of living sculpture that rivals anything that Michelangelo has peppered across the city. They don’t talk, after all, just a symphony of soft moans and sighs that direct hands and mouths and leave all their clothing strewn across the foot of the bed.

The sounds of the city are a muted counterpoint behind them as they fall the rest of the way into bed, smooth skin finally pressed together without barriers. The constant murmur is a reminder that they aren’t alone, of why they’re both here in the first place, but it fades in face of competition from their syncopated heartbeats and the muted gasps with each new inch of skin that’s charted.

Kara isn’t as hesitant as Cat would have expected even after the initiative in getting them this far, hands never ceasing their exploration as her lips continue to trace paths of their own along the lines of her throat. The movements are gentle, almost teasing, as Kara works to build her up with single minded determination.

Cat quickly discovers that Kara likes the sounds she makes, that the more vocal Cat is the more enthusiastic the movements of Kara’s hands. All too soon, Cat finds herself lost to the sensations as Kara searches for and finds the places that earn those strongest reactions. Just as she always brought the hottest latte, or found the perfect restaurant, or memorized the name of every person Cat would have to shake hands with, so Kara applies her dedication and devotion to learning Cat’s body.

When they’d first fallen into bed, Cat hadn’t expected it to be like this. She’d expected to take the lead, to show Kara what she wanted. But there’s no doubt that Kara has taken charge, and Cat is quickly being swept away. She knows the details should be savored, filed away as carefully as quotes from a reluctant source, but in the face of her own need it all dissolves into just so much touching.

Cat likes to think she gives as good as she gets, and she’s certainly relentless in her quest to exhaust Kara. To reduce the world down to just the two of them, without history and responsibility and the weight of tomorrow beckoning from beyond the balcony windows. To bring peace, pleasure and something that might be a little touch of home to both of them, when they’re both so very far from there.

The only words they speak are gentle encouragements, soft whispers that are more air than words, gasped out into the night as if in prayer. The earlier heat has gentled, mellowed into a give and take as they each trade a last few touches before finally there’s nothing left to give and they fall into the sheets spent, curling around each other for closeness and comfort as their heartbeats and breaths even out.

“Thank you,” Kara whispers into Cat’s hair some time later, still holding her close.

“You’re welcome,” Cat mutters, still trying to regulate her breathing and the fluttering behind her ribcage. “That’s the thing, Kara, about these beautiful places. You can’t just come here for the past, feed off the history. You have to make new memories of your own; ones worth holding on to.”

“I want to hold on to this,” Kara confesses, wriggling just a little to pull a sheet over them as a barrier against the cool night air. “I want to hold on to you.”

The confirmation that her feelings might be returned, that Kara wants this as much as she does has the fluttering of Cat’s heart growing stronger, and for a single moment she feels a flash of fear rise up and threaten to take over. But wrapped as she is in Kara’s arms, there’s no way for it to take hold, and before she can even tense up Cat is relaxing.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, anyway. Tomorrow? We really will have to talk. There’s no point in me coming back to National City if you’re flying around the world looking for peace.”

“I think I found it.” Kara smiles, and Cat turns towards her still wrapped in her embrace. “What about you? Still diving, Miss Grant?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve found all the answers I was looking for,” Cat begins to tease, hurrying on before Kara can worry. “But I think I found the question I should be answering, at least.”

“It’s peaceful,” Kara says, stifling a yawn for a moment and then letting it overtake her. “Buona notte, Cat.”

“Goodnight.” And when Cat kisses her forehead, Kara’s already asleep.


End file.
